Sleep, Work... and Cleaning?

In the morning, Seiji was awakened by the sound of the alarm on his phone. He slowly opened his eyes, tapping on the bedside table to locate his phone and silence the annoying alarm sound.

Eventually, he managed to do so and after this, he sluggishly got out of bed.

The day light, lightened up his room, making the starting day a bit more sufferable.

He went to the closet to get his fresh work clothes, and made his way to the living room.

"Ugh... I feel like everything that happened yesterday was just one big dream..." he said with tiredness.

Suddenly, his doubts were dispelled by Hideaki's loud snoring, still sleeping on the couch.

"Buut it wasn't just a dream after all..."

Seiji let out a tired sigh and headed to the kitchen. He made himself a morning coffee - a silent ritual that allowed him to gather strength for the next day - and turned to the fridge to gather ingredients for his lunch for work.

Eggs, oil, soy sauce, sugar, sweet rice wine (mirin), and water.

He wanted to make Tamagoyaki.

---

Soon the food was ready. Seiji allowed it to cool slightly, then began cutting it into neat bite-sized pieces with a sharp knife.

Cooking was never a problem for him; in fact, he enjoyed it. His dishes were always delicious in taste and aesthetically pleasing in composition.

He began arranging the sliced pieces in a bento box, garnishing them with chopped green onions for extra flavor and visual appeal. After a moment, he took a coffee and went to the dining table, located in the space between the living room and the kitchen.

As he drank, his gaze shifted to Hideaki. He looked small, almost harmless now, his long hair a mess, still snoring. Yet the reality of who he was - what he was - didn't escape Seiji.

'He's wanted. They'll catch him eventually...'

Seiji's eyes lingered on Hideaki's long, wavy hair.

That was his most noticeable feature, one easily remembered by witnesses.

Seiji took a measured sip of coffee, his eyes narrowing in thought.

'If I want him to stay here long enough to finish the job, I'll need to make it harder to catch him and make sure he can't just get up and do something reckless. He's weak, yes... but not helpless. He could still steal, hide a weapon... or run.'

He glanced at the bookshelf, then at the door locks, then back at Hideaki.

'Never underestimate someone like him. Not even half-dead.'

He thought... and thought... until finally, after draining the last gulp of his coffee, he came to a conclusion.

"...Yes. That will do."

He moved quietly, methodically.

First, he collected anything sharp or heavy enough to be improvised as a weapon — larger kitchen knives, scissors, even a hammer and screwdriver he had. He put them in a locked drawer in his bedroom.

Then, he double-checked the balcony door and added a secondary lock to the front door that could only be opened with the key he kept in his pocket.

His gaze flickered back to Hideaki, who stirred faintly in his sleep.

'Good. Keep him unaware, keep him contained.'

And still, the hair... It was too memorable. Too loud.

'Later, I'll deal with that.'

He quickly finished his breakfast and wrote a small note for Hideaki:

[ I'm going to work, I'll be back later. Food is in the fridge. I advise you not to leave the apartment, unless you want to get caught. See you later. – Seiji ]

Seiji grabbed his bag and just before he left the apartment, he checked once more — locks secured, valuables hidden, windows bolted. He slid the key into his pocket and pulled the door shut with a decisive click.

The apartment was now a quiet cage.

***

[Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department – Early Morning]

The operations room was tense, filled with the rustle of papers and the quiet shuffling of boots on linoleum.

Detective Akira Nakamura - a middle-aged man in his late 40s, with a weathered face that speaks of long years spent chasing monsters most people pretend don't exist. His black hair was beginning to gray at the temples, and faint lines crease the corners of his tired, sharp eyes.

Always dressed in a wrinkled trench coat over a simple shirt and tie, he carried himself with a quiet intensity — someone who's seen too much and trusts too little. He rarely raises his voice, but when he speaks, people listen. Beneath his stoic demeanor, there's a fire: relentless, focused, and deeply personal.

He stood before a whiteboard covered in crime scene photos, newspaper clippings, and at the center — a portrait of Hideaki Miyahara. His gaze was focused, his voice cold and steady.

"Before we move forward with today's operation, I want everyone here to understand exactly who we're dealing with."

He stepped aside slightly, pointing at one of the more grotesque crime scene photos.

"This isn't some cold, calculating psychopath with a plan. Miyahara Hideaki kills on impulse. Driven by emotion. By madness that crashes over him like a wave — and what's left afterward..." — he paused, carefully selecting his words — "...is an artist. In his own warped sense of the word."

He turned to address the assembled officers.

"When he's killing, he leaves the kind of scene you don't just walk away from.
Guts, flesh, fragments — they all are scattered around.
He doesn't control himself in the usual sense. But what he does afterward isn't random.
He starts to 'draw'. With a knife. A blade. Whatever he has on hand. Lines, symbols, sometimes shapes or patterns only he understands.
Blood covers everything. It's more than just the result of violence.
He loves it.
The color, the texture, the way it trickles over the skin — that's his aesthetic. It literally becomes his ink, spread like pigment on the canvas, which are human bodies.
It's not just murder with him — it's expression."

A heavy silence fell across the room. A few younger officers averted their eyes from the photos. One audibly swallowed.

"He wants us to look after him." Nakamura said, his voice quieter now — not out of uncertainty, but as if admitting something that disturbed him.

"Not to find him. To see him. To witness what he's become — or maybe what he always was."

He paused, eyes fixed on the photo again — a brutal composition of limbs and blood like something torn from a nightmare.

"It looks like chaos. But it's also a performance. But that's not all. He doesn't just spill blood — he fights with it. His Magic Ability lets him shape that blood into weapons: blades, spikes, saws, you name it. He crafts tools of death... as if the blood were sculpting clay."

He looked once more at Hideaki's photo.

"This isn't a cold genius. This isn't someone who plots for months. This is someone who explodes. Who kills because he has to. Then stands over it all... creating his own twisted version of beauty.
And the worst part of it?
He's the only one who knows the meaning behind all this madness. Madness. Draped in art. The worst combination you could imagine."

He turned to the team again, his gaze heavy.

"But don't think for a second that this means predictability. Miyahara isn't following a pattern like a painter stuck in one style."

He walked slowly toward the map of Tokyo, marked with red pins denoting past attack locations.

"This isn't someone seeking redemption. Or help. He uses murder like a language of attention. Every killing says something. Every victim is part of what he's trying to tell us — whether we want to hear it or not..."

He stopped, staring sternly at his team.

"If any of you think we're dealing with just another madman — change that mindset now. This boy is quiet. He looks harmless. But that's exactly what makes him the most dangerous subject we've encountered in years."

[Late in the morning]

Hideaki woke up from his sleep. After emitting a loud yawn, he stretched his sore legs and arms and looked around.

"I haven't slept so good in weeks!" He declared, rubbing his tired eyes. Then he looked around the place, he was.

'I'm still here... So I wasn't dreaming about it...'  he thought, rubbing his back.

The discomfort he felt was due to the uncomfortable position in which he had slept. Despite that, he felt physically better than the previous day.

After a moment, he got up and headed to the bathroom to freshen up.

When he saw himself in the mirror, he was a bit shocked.

His long brown hair covered half of his face, and he had slightly shadow bags under his eyes from tiredness.

To feel more alert, he splashed his face with refreshingly cool water and patted it dry with a towel. He didn't have a toothbrush, so he just rinsed his mouth with water.

'I feel tired as fuck... I can hardly feel my mana at all...'

His hands trembled as he tried to use his magic.

'I need to be stronger... But... I can't do anything at the moment... damnit...'  He said staring at his shaking hands.

Then, he looked at himself in the mirror again 'When did my hair grow so much...?'

He ran his fingers through his hair and looked down at his reflection in the mirror.

The way his hair fell on his forehead and partially covered his eyes gave him a sinister look, which only added "charm" to the overall terrifying and intimidating aura he emanated (even though he physically and by height, looked younger).

Hideaki grinned wickedly, enchanted by his appearance.
"I look so awesome... Hehehe..." he sneered.

He looked at the rest of his body.

His wrists were swollen and red. He had bruises and partially healed wounds on his arms and legs.

Only now could he see what had happened to him, what condition his body was in. After a moment, he sighed heavily.

'I've lost a lot of weight...'

He stretched back and forth.

Seiji's t-shirt was sticking to his bulging ribs as he lifted his hands up. After a while, he returned to his normal, hunched position.

Suddenly his stomach made a rumbling noise...

"Actually, I could really use something for breakfast..." he decided not to linger in the bathroom any longer and went to the kitchen.

On the counter, he noticed a note from Seiji. He reached for it but had difficulty reading it. The handwriting of some of Seiji's Japanese characters was slurred at times.

'I wonder where he works...'  he mused before tossing the note aside.

He walked over to the fridge to see what interesting to eat was inside.
Despite seeing quite wide range of fresh products, he was struggling with what to make for breakfast...

"Aaagh! Damnit! Why he have to have so much of it here!? I have no shit clue what to eat! Or to make anything! Why there's no one who could make me food right away??" He slammed the fridge shut in frustration, glancing around for something easy. That's when he spotted the leftover rice from yesterday.

'Tch, he made o-onigiri from it yesterday...'

And so, he tried to make them as well. They didn't turn out well for him.

He clumsily formed the rice into misshapen balls, his lack of skill glaringly obvious. They looked awful, crooked, not to mention didn't look very appetizing.

"Tch! FUUCK!" He yelled angered and snarled, throwing the poorly-made onigiri onto a plate. "They look like shit!!" suddenly, his stomach growled again "D-damnit!" He cursed.

Being desperate for food, he added soy sauce, and ate them.

They weren't delicious, they looked like they were made by a very inexperienced cook, but Hideaki couldn't make better ones. He didn't know how to cook at all...

After eating his meal, a grimace of disgust appeared on his face. The onigiri he made were in no way as appetizing as the ones he received from Seiji yesterday...

His stomach rumbled again, not quite satisfied.

With a defeated sigh, Hideaki glanced back at the fridge...

***

[Meanwhile]

At work, Seiji was finishing writing a new software.

For a few months, he had been working as a programmer for one of the IT companies in Tokyo.

He was in the process of finishing his code when suddenly, a coworker spoke to him.

"Hey, Seiji. You look tired today... Didn't sleep well or what?"

This man was Seiji's age, a head and a half taller than him, with short black hair and black eyes. He worked at the desk next to Seiji's.

His name was Kiminawa Ken.

Seiji sighed, not even looking away from his screen. The code lines mirrored in his monitor glasses.

"You could say that. A lot happened since yesterday."

Ken suddenly perked up, his expression brightening.

"Oh! You got a new girlfriend?"

Seiji blinked, then turned to him with a deadpan stare.

"What? No. Not even close."

Ken scratched the back of his head, chuckling awkwardly.

"Oh... Sorry, I shouldn't jump to conclusions like that. Especially since you're still recovering from your breakup with Aoi."

Seiji exhaled through his nose, his voice calm but firm.

"It's fine. I'm getting over it."

Ken smiled slightly.

"So... what happened then?"

Seiji hesitated for a moment. He needed to be careful with his words.

"I met someone... But..." He paused, realizing he couldn't exactly say "an escaped convict", let alone "a serial killer". That would cause a mess. He had to rephrase. "Let's just say... he's impulsive. And also my temporary roommate."

Ken froze.

"Huh?! What? I thought you preferred to live alone!"

Seiji leaned back slightly, taking off his glasses and rubbing his temple.

"I did. But now I don't. And frankly speaking, he's been annoying the hell out of me."

Ken was still processing this when suddenly, a loud argument erupted across the office.

Both men peeked over their desks to see what was happening.

A tall woman with long black hair, wearing a white shirt, black skirt, and dark tights, was standing in front of a seated male coworker, her voice sharp with anger.

She was looking at him with disapproval by her sharp, snake-like yellow eyes.

Seiji sighed, already unamused.

"Iwasaki-san. Again."

Ken groaned.

"Yeah... And of course, she only picks on the ones without Magic Ability. I still remember when she latched onto you... God, that was a nightmare."

Seiji's expression darkened slightly, his fingers briefly tensing against his keyboard.

"Hard to forget."

Ken leaned back in his chair, clicking his tongue.

"Nothing to talk about with her. She's a damn egotist and a manipulator."

Seiji watched the scene for a moment longer before sighing and turning back to his work.

"Whatever. Let's just get back to work. Code won't write itself."

Ken chuckled lightly.

"Yeah, yeah. Let's get to it!"

Just as they sat comfortably in their chairs and aimed to start working, a mentioned nasty woman approached them...

She launched her gaze at Seiji, who, despite noticing her, deliberately ignored her presence. He put his glasses on his nose again, when...

Iwasaki Toga — glared at him with wide, bulging eyes. Seeing him immersing himself in coding, she snorted, a sinister smile spreading across her face.

"What are you up to again, Sekiguchi? Huh?? Using some cheat to write your code again?"

Seiji exhaled silently through his nose.

"No. As I've told you before, my results come from skill and hard work. If you're still struggling to accept that, that's your problem, not mine."

Toga let out a loud, contemptuous laugh.

"Hahahaha!!! A loser like you doesn't cheat!? Please! Who are you trying to fool? You're probably looking up codes on the Internet with your phone!"

"That's an interesting assumption, considering I code faster than you, even without a phone," Seiji replied, keeping his eyes on his screen. "Maybe you should try learning instead of whining."

Her eye twitched "Ha! I don't believe you!" she sneered, voice dripping with arrogance. "Faster than me!? Are you lost your mind!? I'm the superior here! Trash like you will never understand complicated things! You'll always rely on some kind of help because you can't manage on your own! A country boy, a boy with no Magic Ability! Achieving the best results in university and at work?? Hah! Hahaha! Pathetic! You're sucking up to the boss! Is that why you're doing so well!? You don't have Magic Ability, so you try to compensate here... YOU'RE pathetic..."

She leaned in closer, voice lowering to a venomous whisper.

"You're nothing but a joke, Sekiguchi. Everyone here knows it. You should just quit and save us all the trouble of dealing with your uselessness. People like you, without any Magic Ability, don't belong here."

Seiji finally looked at her, his expression unreadable. "It's funny how much effort you put into trying to convince me that I don't belong here. Almost as if you're trying to convince yourself."

Her eye twitched again. "You pathetic little worm!!!" she yelled, and without warning, she slapped him hard across the face.

Seji's glasses fell off from his face and hit the desk with a hearable clank.

"Iwasaki-san!" Ken jumped from his chair.

The sharp sound of the slap echoed in the office, drawing the attention of a few nearby coworkers who smirked but did nothing to intervene.

Toga now shifted her demeanor...

She began to laugh... and laugh, and with that, her laughter grew louder and more malicious... Desperate even.

"Convine myself?? Don't make me laugh any more! You're just a pathetic excuse of a man, trying to make up for your lack of talent! You're saying that you work so hard here, but you know, hard work can't fix stupidity. You're just a target here, Sekiguchi! Because you're weak, and weak people like you deserve every bit of the bullying and ridicule you get. Just like Yamamoto-san received it a moment ago!"

She pointed out at the now miserable looking co-worker that Seiji and Ken were gazing not so long ago.

Seiji's cheek burned, but his expression remained controlled.

"And yet, despite all of that, I'm still here. Still working. Still outperforming you. Makes you wonder who the real weak one is."

Toga's smirk twitched, her satisfaction faltering. She grabbed Seiji's collar, pulling him close.

"One more outmark like this and my friends will squish you into sour apple! You're nothing but a parasite, living off the scraps of those better than you. You don't belong here, and you never will."

Seiji tilted his head slightly. "Oh yeah? Then tell that to our boss. If I don't belong here, why hasn't he fired me?"

Toga gritted her teeth. "F-fucking asshole..." she whispered angrily, then shoved him back into his chair, a cruel smile on her lips. "Enough with your bullshit! Now get back to work, loser. And remember, you're here because we allow you to be. One wrong move, and you'll be out on the streets where you belong."

With a final disdainful glance, Toga turned and walked away, her heels clicking sharply against the floor, leaving Seiji to contemplate her words.

Seiji took a deep breath, rolling his jaw slightly, put on back his glasses and straightened his collar, brushing off the spot where she had grabbed him. He had long since accepted that this was his reality.

The office was a battlefield, and he was always in the crossfire. His desk was littered with degrading notes, his personal belongings often tampered with. The weight of it all settled heavily on him, but still, he remained seated, typing away, as if nothing had happened.

Ken, witnessing all this, couldn't stay silent any longer. He stepped forward, his voice filled with concern. "Are you okay, Seiji?"

Seiji sighed loudly and nodded. "Yeah. Everything's fine." he said forcing a fake but seemingly genuine smile.

But it wasn't fine.

"What a bitch..." he exclaimed silently, still feelling the burning remains of the slap she gave him "She can't let go off me for even a one day, can she? And I just want to work in peace..." he whispered to himself, correcting his glasses.

During the next few hours of work, Seiji's mind was a storm of anxiety and exhaustion as he tried to focus on their project. The constant harassment was wearing him down.

His only comfort was his coding work.

He wanted to escape this living hell at any cost.

This desire was intensified by the knowledge that, back at his apartment, there was a person who soon could end it all - Hideaki, a serial killer he had found on the streets. If not the tall skyscraper, then he was a way out, one that would bring a final end to his suffering.

[Meantime at the apartment]

Hideaki was lying on the couch, clutching his stomach from terrible pain he had. He didn't look good.

The kitchen was littered with dirty plates and burnt pots.

Suddenly, he ran quickly to the toilet and vomited, clinging to the toilet seat. "Ugh..."

'It was so disgusting...'

He breathed heavily, then vomited again. He felt he needed a glass of water, but the kitchen was so far away. The only nearest source of water was the sink in the bathroom.

He crawled there. It wasn't easy because the state he was in made it doubly difficult. Eventually, he reached his destination. He turned on the hot and cold taps and took a couple of sips of water. It quenched his thirst for a moment.

He sat down, tiredly on the cool floor, leaning against the wall of the sink cabinet. He was exhausted. Lack of strength from all this time he had to survive on streets and his current situation make him hard to swallow through it all.

'Ugh... Eating these burnt meals that I did wasn't good... F-fuck... Trying to make food for myself was the worst idea ever...' he said to himself, but shortly after that, he felt unpleasant in his stomach. He dashed to the toilet bowl again.

After spending several painful minutes in the bathroom, he managed to return to the living room.

Exhausted, he lay down on the couch. He hated that he got such a terrible stomachache. He nervously watched the clock hanging on the kitchen wall.

'When he gets back from this damn job... I'm dying here!'

The unbearable pain in his stomach didn't help him wait. He tried to get up to pour himself a glass of water. It took a huge effort from him to do it, but at the end, he succeeded.

He decided to look if Seiji had any medicines. Unfortunately for him, there was nothing. "Damn it!"

Unable to do anything, he returned to the couch, wrapping himself in a blanket. The warmth embraced his whole body, making the laying on the couch a bit better than before...

His red eyes closed, he needed a rest from constant trips to the toilet shell... The only thing he wanted now, was to wait for his would-be victim to return with painkillers.

***

After many hours of work, Seiji finally finished. He looked at the time. It was evening, but not too late to go after what he had planned.

He quickly made his way to the certain store and headed to the subway. He couldn't wait to return home.

"Damn, it's already 18... I hope he made himself something to eat.."

As Seiji was finally at his place, he carefully opened the door. He didn't know what his would-be killer could have planned as he was away, so he'd rather wanted to be prepared... Just in case...

He looked through the door frame. To his surprise the flat corridor didn't show any signs of Hideaki plotting something against him...

"I came back." He said loudly, hoping to catch the attention of him.

But still, silence.

"Huh...." Seiji looked confused and went further, but as soon as he stepped into the kitchen, he froze in his tracks. His eyes widening in shock at the scene before him.

A ton of dirty pots, pillows all over the living room with some of them being ripped off, a blanket on the floor, and the bathroom door tightly closed.

"What's going on..."

Suddenly he heard a curse and a familiar voice from the bathroom.

He knocked carefully. "Hello? Hideaki, are you there?"

Nobody answered.

Seiji assumed worst-case scenarios. He didn't know what had happened to Hideaki, but he had to intervene. "I'm going in!"

He opened the door.

There was no one at the sink, he walked deeper.

He checked the toilet.

"Ah, there you are..." He said with relief as he saw the murderer sitting and...

looking like a wreck by the toilet.

"What happened and what have you done to my apartment??" he asked slightly annoyed as he remembered the chaos that was in the room before.

To this, Hideaki replied, "I wanted to... make myself some food...but...it didn't work out...and..." At that point, he vomited into the toilet bowl.

Seeing this, Seiji made a disgusted face. No one would be happy to see another person's vomit...
"You sound like a vomiting cat." Seiji noticed.

"Tch!" Hideaki hissed from the comment. He was breathing heavily. 'F-fuck! I hate being sick!'

Seiji looked to see if there was a glass of water anywhere. "I'll go get you some drink. You'll rinse your mouth out.."

He left the bathroom and went to the kitchen "Dang it... He made my apartment a real Armageddon..."

He saw the burnt bottoms of the pots

"What the... Fuck! I need to buy new pots now! Come on!!"

Rage boiled inside him. Without a moment's hesitation, he grabbed a glass, filling it with water and rushed back to Hideaki.
He handed him a drink "You'll buy me back the pots... Damn, how can you don't know how to cook even simplest dishes!?"

Hideaki got mad "I just don't know how to cook! I've n-never been allowed to try to do anything in the kitchen in my family house, so stop fucking around!"

At that, Seiji laughed "Oh, I can see why they never let you. First, you burned my pots, then what? Will you burn down my kitchen??"

"Sh-shut up!" Hideaki barked back.

Seiji sighed in frustration. "Who did I have to share this flat with..."

"If you don't like it, you can move out!" Hideaki added in frustration.

"What!? But I lived here first! And I'm paying for it, not you!"

"Then why the hell did you drag me here huh!?"

"Because I wanted to help you!" He said "...And I regret this decision more and more..." he added to himself quietly,

"Get lost!" Hideaki replied aggressively

"As you wish!" and at that moment, Seiji slammed the bathroom door.

He took a deep breath and tried to calm his nerves. He looked at the living room... "I have to clean up here... But first... I have to go to the pharmacy to buy him some medicine..."

Quickly, he took his wallet from his backpack, but before leaving the apartment, he paused for a moment at the bathroom door "I'm going to buy you some pills. Wait here for me."

All what he could hear was a trembling "F-fuck o-off..." from Hideaki.

Seiji sighed with discourage and rapidly left the apartment, closing the entrance doors on key again.

After a longer while, Seiji returned with a net full of medicines.

Hideaki came out of the bathroom in the meantime. He took the pills Seiji gave him. At this point, he didn't look if the pills were poisoned or had anything suspicious in them. He just wanted to get rid of the pain. He drank some water and lay down on the couch.

Seiji put the pills back in the kitchen cupboard. "That should help you. Swallow it for a couple of days. Twice a day. Don't eat much." Then he looked again at the burnt pots. "I'll have to do something for you before I leave for work..." He sighed "I have only problems with you..."

Hideaki closed his eyes and wrapped himself in a blanket not saying anything back this time.

Seiji turned his gaze to the net with the things he bought for today...
'As I can see, what I wanted to do today will have to wait until he gets better...'

He took the bag and put its contents in the bathroom cabinet.